Dragged Down
by Little Miss Slytherclaw
Summary: Regulus was there to right a wrong. He was there to be a hero, and he had a feeling he was going to die. But none of that mattered. All Regulus cared about was switching the lockets and having the original destroyed; he needed to ensure that the Dark Lord was a mortal man when he inevitably faced his final opponent.


**Written For: The Hunger Games: Fanfic Style III - The Training Round**

 **Prompts Used: "What do you think you're doing?"**

 **Word Count: 2,925**

 **(more notes at the end)**

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 **Dragged Down**

The dark-haired boy took a shaky breath as his eyes locked onto his destination. The small, green-glowing island in the middle of the lake looked no more inviting than the moist, moss-covered wall behind him, but he wasn't here to feel invited or comfortable. He was here to right a wrong. He was here to be a hero.

He figured he might die within the hour, but death was better than letting the Dark Lord win.

Glancing down at the blood trickling past his fingertips from the first barrier, he steeled his stomach. He had gotten this far and couldn't turn back now. "Kreacher," he croaked, almost embarrassed at how weak his voice sounded. "What next?"

"Master Regulus, please—"

"Kreacher," Regulus interrupted, his voice stern and stronger than before. He didn't need to say anything else as the house elf knew what Regulus meant. Kreacher had spent the last week trying to talk Regulus out of this plan, but Regulus hadn't backed down previously, and wouldn't back down now. The Dark Lord needed to be stopped; the world needed a chance at life, and Regulus would never forgive himself if he didn't finish what he had started.

Wordlessly, Kreacher summoned a rickety row boat, though it was missing oars. The sounds of water lapping against the rocky shore and the molding wood echoed around the cave. Slipping his hand into his pocket, calming himself at the feel of cool metal against his fingertips, Regulus took one last deep breath and stepped into the boat, Kreacher following close behind. He barely had time to sit down before the boat was moving towards the gloomy island.

"Master Regu—" Kreacher tried again, but Regulus raised his hand to stop him, asking the house-elf for silence.

"We've been through this," Regulus said, his voice losing its strength to a mix of exhaustion and fear. "I'm drinking the potion. Your job is to ensure that the lockets are switched, the original is destroyed, and the basin is refilled."

Kreacher looked like he wanted to argue, but a stern look from Regulus kept him quiet. In the silence, the boat reached the island, prompting the pair to leave the rotting wood. Regulus slipped his hand in his pocket once more. However, this time, the boy pulled out a replica of Slytherin's locket—an exact replica. Regulus had done his research, had taken the time to meticulously craft the piece down to the bejeweled markings on the emerald green snake. The Dark Lord could look at it all he wished, pick it up and examine it as close to his eye as possible, and he wouldn't know it wasn't the original unless he opened it up and found the note Regulus had left inside.

Holding the locket tight, Regulus stepped up to the basin, grimacing at the green glow emanating from its contents. "Don't let me stop drinking, Kreacher," he commanded softly, turning his silver eyes to his house-elf, one of the few beings he had a proper connection with.

Kreacher opened his mouth to argue, but Regulus shook his head. "Please don't fight me on this," Regulus murmured, his shoulders sagging a little. "Make sure I drink it all, and no matter what happens to me, you do the job I've given you, alright?"

Regulus held Kreacher's stare until the house-elf nodded. Satisfied, the boy leaned over the basin, spending only half a second trying to put the fake locket in the potion without having to drink it. When that proved unsuccessful, Regulus wasted no time in setting the locket to the side and conjuring up a simple cup.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Regulus said, glancing back at the house-elf before plunging the cup into the green substance. "For everything."

Without waiting for a response, Regulus took his first mouthful, then his second, and then his third, drinking as quickly as he could. As his fourth came to his lips, the pain started. It was skull-shattering, burning and sharp all at once. He swallowed the next sip before allowing himself to gasp, his stomach clenching and spine bending at the torture of it all. It was far worse than the harshest cruciatus punishment he had ever suffered through; but, the nightmare didn't stop there.

Next came the sounds that Regulus had always tried to block from his mind. The sound of his mother screaming, the sound of his brother crying in the next room over, the sound of dark curses slipping from his father's lips—it was all too much. Regulus could vaguely feel his knees hitting the cold stone, but his senses were dampened by the pain and the sounds. Dropping the cup, he clutched his head, fingers digging into his skull as he tried to block it all out. He just needed to block it all out.

When he closed his eyes, the visions came. His brother walking out the door with his trunk behind him, the malice in his father's eyes, the sneer on the Dark Lord's lips, the way Kreacher shook upon returning to Regulus after the house-elf's last excursion to this cave. It was all too much.

He might have cried out for help, or screamed, writhing on the floor and refusing the potion, but he didn't know. All he knew was pain—physical and mental. So much hurt, so much agony. It was all too much.

And then it was over.

What the potion left in its wake was a burning thirst. Regulus opened his eyes, finding himself crumpled at the base of the basin, looking up with blurred vision to see Kreacher exchanging the lockets and refilling the basin with the damned green potion.

"Water," he croaked, he begged, but he wasn't loud enough for Kreacher to hear.

With a burning chest and shaky limbs, he turned his attention away from the house-elf and towards the lake that lapped enticingly at the edge of the rock. It was so close. Trembling, the boy started to drag himself to the water's edge, desperate to feel water pass his dry lips.

After what felt like an eternity of crawling, dragging himself, Regulus finally reached the edge of the rock. Without a moment's thought, he plunged face first into the cool liquid, taking a desperate gulp, and another, and another, until he was sated and he felt strong enough to pull away.

But, by then, it was too late.

Thin, yet oddly strong, hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him down into the water. Before Regulus was able to stop it from happening, his body fell, completely submerged in the cool pressure. He might have been able to fight it, to clamor his way back to the rocks, but hands soon grabbed his ankles, and shoulders, and hips, and hands. There were too many hands, all grappling at Regulus's flailing body, all dragging him down into the pit of darkness below.

After what felt like an eternity of struggling, Regulus gave in, allowing himself to submit to defeat, consciousness leaving him entirely.

When Regulus regained consciousness, the only thing he saw was darkness. His first thought was that he had died, but then his eyes adjusted, and he could see a faint green glow above him. After a moment he realized that he wasn't breathing, but when he tried to inhale, a dull pain ignited in his chest, and his vision blurred. Panic struck his heart, and he squirmed just a little bit, brushing his arm against something fleshy.

When he turned to look at what he had run into, Regulus was nearly sick. A bone-thin body rested beside him, skin pale and decomposing. It used to be female, but that was the only discernible feature that set that particular body apart from the thousands behind it and around Regulus.

They all seemed to be dead, horribly silent and disgustingly close. After a moment of panic extreme enough to make Regulus pull himself into a floating ball, the boy realized that he was at the bottom of the lake, surrounded by the same Inferi that had drowned him.

After a moment of horror stressful enough to make Regulus feel sick to his stomach, Regulus realized that he wasn't dead. At least, not yet.

Filled with some semblance of hope, Regulus peeled himself out of the ball he had made and pushed off of the lake's rocky bottom, desperate to reach the top as quickly as he could, to get out of this conscious nightmare.

The higher up he swam, the more dead bodies he saw. Some of the corpses were nothing more than grey, peeling, skin and bone, but a few of them had fat or muscle. Some of them had hair, some of them had clothes. All of them appeared to be sleeping.

Grimacing, Regulus pushed himself harder, feeling relief when he saw the edge of the island. His relief, however, was short lived. When he reached the surface of the water, he didn't break through like he expected, but instead hit it and ricocheted down into the dark depths as if the surface of the water was a solid wall.

He tried. He tried again and again, but each attempt was met with the same results.

All he managed to do was give himself a headache.

In the depths of the lake, it was too dark to dream in color, so Regulus sat for year after year, never aging, yet perpetually deteriorating. Not knowing anything other than darkness and the damn green glow above him.

It was a listless existence. The Inferi never stirred. No noises were ever made. The Dark Lord hadn't come to check on his Horcrux, and Regulus wasn't sure what had happened to Kreacher. All he knew was that he was trapped, he couldn't use his magic, there was no way out, and he was slowly losing his grip on sanity.

Sometimes, images would slip through his mind: his brother leaving, Kreacher pleading with him, the Dark Lord torturing a muggle. Sometimes the images were accompanied with sounds. Nothing was ever pleasant.

He couldn't speak, he could barely see, and with each passing day, he forgot more and more about himself. Thoughts were even hard to hold on to. Regulus would go through potion names alphabetically, but by the time he got to the letter 'C,' he would forget what he was doing and have to start over. 'C' slowly turned into 'B,' and then 'A.' Finally, he gave up entirely, choosing instead to turn his mind off, doing nothing more than sleep and stare.

All of that changed, however, when Regulus caught sight of the bottom of the boat moving one day. It was eerie, seeing the ever-still hunk of wood gliding above him, seemingly weighed down by more than one body. The first thought that Regulus had in a long time was: 'Now the Dark Lord will finally know what I've done to him.'

The boat stopped at the edge of the island, and Regulus drifted closer to the surface, eager to see how the next little bit would play out, expecting to lay his eyes upon the charismatic man who called himself the Dark Lord. However, he instead saw Albus Dumbledore, looking quite sick, and James Potter. They were the last two people he would have ever expected to see, but something akin to excitement rushed through his veins. So maybe he didn't get to see the Dark Lord be put down a peg, but James and Dumbledore had come for him. Why else would they be here?

Regulus put his hands on what had become his ceiling, willing Dumbledore or James to look down—to see that he was there, to realize that they would find what they came for. Only, the two men didn't stop and look down, but instead continued on towards the basin.

When Dumbledore started to drink the potion, Regulus wanted to scream out, "What do you think you're doing?" but was entirely unable to. So, he hit the surface of the water, banging his hands on it, trying to get either man's attention. James spared him a glance but didn't seem to actually see Regulus.

"I already got the Horcrux," he tried to explain, a dull throb pulsing in his chest from trying to speak in the water. "Kreacher destroyed it!"

"Stop drinking the damn potion."

"You're just hurting yourself!"

More words tried to push their way out of his lips, but Regulus got nowhere with them. He watched as Dumbledore collapsed and James rushed to find water.

And he felt the Inferi stir. After so much silence, after years of being perfectly still, bodies rushed all around Regulus, bumping and jostling the boy as James plunged his hand into the water, a goblet locked carefully between his fingers. Regulus had a moment of realization; it was only when someone on the other side of the water broke the surface that the Inferi were able get free. However, this knowledge did nothing to stop Regulus from feeling so powerless as the Inferi pushed him past the surface of the water and onto the island.

James was pulled under the water, and in a desperate attempt to help his brother's best friend, Regulus screamed the word "FIRE."

Mere seconds later, a blistering heat wove around Regulus, and the smell of burning flesh permeated the air. Inferi were ignited on the spot, thrown back into the water by the flame coming from Dumbledore's wand. It was disastrous enough for the reanimated corpses that they stayed in the water as James clamored to the shore, breathing hard and dripping wet. Slowly, green eyes lifted to stare at Dumbledore, who was leaning heavily against the basin, and then, finally, Regulus.

"Merlin's beard," Regulus whispered, falling to his knees as James stared at him. "You recognize me, right James?" It felt so good for Regulus to talk, to breath, to feel. He couldn't help but laugh. "How long have I been missing? Is Sirius ok? What about Lily. She have your kid yet?"

Words and questions kept spilling out of Regulus's lips, but when James didn't make any move to answer, and with Dumbledore gasping out ragged breaths behind him, Regulus forced himself to calm down. It was only then that he realized two things.

"Your… Your eyes are green. Why are they green?" he questioned before his gaze traveled just a little higher. "By Salazar, James. What happened to your forehead?"

"Harry, the Inferi won't stay down forever," Dumbledore rasped from behind Regulus, and Regulus whirled around to face the old man, eyes wide and blood pounding in his ears. Dumbledore looked worn down, and much older than last time Regulus had seen him. The aged wizard almost seemed broken, but there was still a twinkle in his eye. No matter what, Dumbledore always seemed to know something that no one else did.

"Harry?" Regulus questioned, turning back to the green-eyed boy, only to find that he was no longer on his hands and knees at the edge of the water, but scrambling to grab the boat while reaching his other hand out to Regulus.

Regulus would have remained frozen, staring at the boy who looked so much like James, if Dumbledore hadn't gently placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him towards the boat. Regulus stumbled forward, grabbing Harry's hand quickly to stabilize himself, and stepped into the boat, followed by Dumbledore and then Harry.

The boat started moving, rather awkwardly with three people in it, and Regulus was silent for a minute, his eyes examining every inch of Harry, his thoughts whirling around in his head.

"You called me James," Harry murmured, his green eyes burning into Regulus's.

"You look a lot like him," Regulus replied immediately.

"You asked about Lily and Sirius," Harry continued. He looked so haunted, and his soft voice echoed just barely across the waves. Regulus feared the Inferi would attack again, but it seemed as if the lake had stilled into its unnatural silence.

"Lily is James's wife. Last I heard, she was pregnant. And Sirius is my brother. He and James are really close," Regulus explained, not knowing why he was replying to everything that Harry said. The boy wasn't even asking questions, just making statements, so why did Regulus feel compelled to explain so much?

"I'm sorry," Harry said, his voice breaking slightly as the boat reached the other shore. Regulus sat up straighter in confusion, preparing himself to stand up, only to be stopped by Harry's next words.

"You're Regulus. Regulus Black, right?" Harry asked, hands shaking. Regulus nodded carefully.

"James," Harry started, taking a deep breath, "James and Lily were my parents, Sirius was my godfather."

Confusion spread through Regulus's features again, and he slumped back into the seat of the boat, watching as Harry seemed to struggle with what to say next. Regulus watched the boy carefully, trying to pick apart what was holding Harry back. That's when he realized Harry had spoken of each person, Sirius, James, and Lily, in the past tense.

"I'm sorry, Regulus. All three of them are dead."

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 **AN 2.0:**

 **Woah... It's been a rough couple of weeks. My body is still falling apart, and something sort of went wrong with my wisdom teeth removal, so I haven't eaten a solid meal since June... but at least I'm writing, eh? Honestly, this story was so much fun to write. It's amazing how writing brings relief, ya know? Also, I need to do Reg more often.**

 **As some of you may know, I'm the Falmouth Falcons Seeker for the Quidditch League comp, and this week it was our BYE round (so we got a break), but the prompt was really fun, so I wrote it anyways! (aka, the story you just read)**

 **This story was inspired by, "Too Dark to Dream at Night," which is part of a title of a story written by the Falcons' Captain (Cheeky Slytherin Lass). Her title also has a second part, "(Flowers Bloom at Midnight)," which I think I'll use as inspiration for either a continuation of this story, or a whole different one-shot!**

 **In any case... I love you all! I hope your day has been lovely!**


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